Chastity (3 page)

    Incredulous at the turn her life had taken so unexpectedly, Chastity thought back to when it had all started a day earlierwhen the Reverend Reed Farrell had boarded the train on which she was traveling west.

    The truth was
,
he'd caught her attention the moment he walked through the doorway of the rail car. Bearded, wearing a cleric's collar and dark attire, his hat pulled down low on his forehead, he had seemed as out of place among the other Westerners filling the rail car as she. She had been able to discern little about him except that he walked laboriously and with a pronounced limp before he sat down, tilted his hat over his face, and fell asleep.

    She remembered that her sense of disquiet had increased as the untamed countryside continued flashing past the windows of the rail car. Traveling alone, through unfamiliar country to   ward an uncertain destination, she had felt her courage failing her. She was increasingly drawn to the sleeping reverend, recalling the sage advice and encouragement she always received from the aging minister of the church she and her aunts had attended.

    Dared she approach him?

    An inner voice immediately responded. Of course not! The man was sleeping!

    A more dogged inner voice nudged, but if he should awaken…

    As if in answer to her thoughts, the parson stirred.

    She approached him nervously, beginning hesitantly, "Ggood afternoon, Reverend. My name is Chastity Lawrence. I saw you when you entered the car. I thought if you weren't busy… I mean, if you had a few minutes to spare…" Her
train of thought faltered when she noted the parson's wavering stare
and the unnatural flush of his skin. She asked, "Are you all right, sir?"

    She did not expect his frown as he responded harshly, "What do you want?"

    Uncertain, she took a backward step. "II didn't mean to disturb you. I thought if you weren't otherwise occupied, we might talk."

    "I'm busy," he replied succinctly.

    Shocked at his discourtesy, she managed, "Are all men of God in the Wild West
rude
?"

    "I'm busy!" he repeated.

    Had she not noted the telltale glaze to his eyes at that moment and the twinge of pain
that  tensed
his face, she supposed she would have turned away on the spot. Instead, she reached out instinctively to touch his forehead. He jerked back from her touch, too late to hide the burning heat there. She gasped, "You have a fever!"

    Eyes that were incredibly blue held hers coldly. "No, I don't."

    She replied with equal firmness, "Yes, you do."

    The blue eyes turned to ice. "Go away."

    Not quite believing her ears, she blinked and adjusted her small, wire-rimmed spectacles. "I beg your pardon."

    She jumped as he snapped, "Go away!"

    But she did not budge an inch.

    Instead, she noted that he clenched his teeth,
then
raised a shaky hand to his temple.

    Unable to help
herself
, she pressed, "You're in pain, aren't you?"

    "That's none of your damned business!"

    "Sir, your language ill befits a man of God!"

    "Look…" His gaze grew ominous. "… let's get something straight. My
language
is my business, too."

    Chastity stiffened. "I just wanted to help."

    "I don't need your help."

    "You need a doctor."

    "No, I don't."

    "You do! You should see one at the next stop." She glanced at the corner of the ticket visible in his coat pocket. Sedalia. Aghast, she pressed, "Surely you don't intend to wait until you reach   Sedalia to see a doctor. We won't arrive there until evening!"

    The reverend's flushed face twitched. "Who are you, anyway?"

    "My name is Chas"

    
"Chastity Lawrence.
But
who
are you?"

    Her bafflement at his question was forgotten when she saw his face tighten. She whispered, "You
are
in pain."

    
Silence.

    She saw his sudden pallor. "You're nauseated, too, aren't you?"

    No response.

    She noted his squint. "And your head is pounding."

    His glare grew venomous.

    She studied his fevered glower. She scanned the broad expanse of shoulders that filled his seat to overlapping and the muscular depth of chest beneath the dark jacket he wore. Refusing to acknowledge the peculiar tremor that moved down her spine when she glanced back up and met his unrelenting stare, she reasoned that he was neither old nor feeble, yet he had been stooped and limping when he'd entered the car. He had obviously injured himself and was more ill than he realized.

    She spoke softly. "You're sick. You need help."

    "Look…" His voice became a low growl. "It's none of your damned business if I'm sick. Go away and leave me alone."

    Deciding it was better to indulge him,
she  said
, "All right, it isn't my business, but it's cooler in this part of the car, so if you don't mind, I'll sit here. You can sleep if you want. I won't bother you." When there was no reply beyond a deepening of his scowl, she urged, "But won't you at least tell me your name?"

    "I thought you said you wouldn't bother me."

    The poor man didn't know what he was saying.

    Hours later she was holding a canteen to his lips, pleading with him to drink. His condition had deteriorated badly as the long afternoon, fraught with delays, had slipped into night. He had begun mumbling deliriously, remaining lucid enough only to insist that he would not leave the train until he reached Sedalia.

    Chastity had looked around the darkened car, seeking a friendly face, a concerned glance, a helpful word. Despairing when there were none, she was not aware of the tear that trailed down her cheek until a gentle hand brushed it away. She turned, startled to see that the parson was suddenly awake and leaning toward her. His flushed face was tight with concern when he whispered, "No, please don't cry, darlin'."

    Speechless, she had felt a strange fluttering within her as he trailed callused fingertips against the line of her jaw. His lips were only inches from hers when he rasped, "But you're beautiful even when you cry, Jenny."

    Jenny…

    Stiffening briefly with pain, he continued more fervently than before, "I missed you so    much. We'll never be apart again. I promise. You'll always be"

    "Sedalia!
Next stop, Sedalia!"

    He jerked back abruptly at the sound of the conductor's voice and glanced around him. She saw his confusion when he stared at her briefly, then at the conductor as he approached. He was about to speak when the screech of the train's brakes stopped him and a dimly lit station came into view in the darkness. She watched tensely as he drew himself unsteadily to his feet in the rocking car and reached for his hat and bag on the rack above his head.

    The conductor grasped his arm when he swayed. "Are you sure you can make it all right, Reverend?"

    "I'm sure."

    Chastity was sitting on the edge of her seat as the two men negotiated the few steps to the platform. She held her breath when the conductor released the parson's arm and he stood alone at last. She breathed again when the parson began limping painfully toward the street.

    
"All aboard!"

    The familiar call sounded, followed by the deafening blast of the train's whistle, but she was somehow unable to look away as the parson hobbled slowly across the platform.

    
"Next stop, Kansas City!"

    The train jerked forward at the same moment that the parson's step first faltered. Chastity sprang to her feet as he swayed and grasped for the support of the wooden column nearby. She   dashed for the door of the car when he slid to his knees.

    On the platform in a moment, she ran toward the reverend's slumped form and slipped her shoulder under his arm to raise him upright. His pale-eyed gaze locked with hers briefly as the train pulled from the station with another deafening blast of the whistle.

    She turned back toward the sound, calling out, ''Wait!"

    She watched helplessly as the train pulled away, shouting frantically after it,
"
My bags!"

    The parson sagged against her arm. Caught between anger and despair, she looked up at him and demanded, "Don't you think
it's
time you at least told me your name? And don't say it's none of my business!"

    
Ice- blue eyes… and silence.

    Snapping back to the present, Chastity took a deep breath and surveyed the street around her with incredulity. Nineteen years old, conservatively raised and educated by maiden aunts who despised the "Wild West," she was now standing on a strange Sedalia, Missouri, street without a stitch to her name other than the clothing on her back, her reputation compromised by her attempt to help a sick, rude, arrogant parson who had not wanted her help in the first place!

    How had this happened?

    Taking a deep breath, Chastity raised her chin. However it had happened, her aunts were   with her no longer, and the present situation was hers alone to salvage.

    Holding that thought, Chastity steeled herself against further embarrassment and walked through the doorway of the mercantile store.

    Grateful to see upon entering that she was presently the only customer, Chastity approached the counter, where a balding, rotund storekeeper stood waiting. She winced inwardly at his intimate sweep of her person. Uncertain how to delicately list the items of intimate feminine apparel she would need, she began hesitantly, "There are some things I need which I thought you might be able to help me with."

    The fellow's smile became a leer. "Are there, now?
And what might they be, darlin'?"

    Chastity stiffened at the man's obvious intonation. Were all Western men boors?

    She responded icily, "I arrived on the train last night without my bag. I need to purchase a change of clothing and some essentials."

    
"No bag, huh?"
His leer broadened. "Does that mean no money, too?"

    "I have money."

    "Then, let's see it, darlin'. Otherwise"he winked slyly” we can make other arrangements."

    Chastity's tone was frigid.
"I said, I have money."

    "And I said, let's see it, or you're not gettin' nowhere near them clothes."

    Chastity's face flamed. "It's obvious you
don't  want
my patronage. I'll take my business elsewhere."

    Turning away, she heard him reply, "You could do that. The only thing is, there ain't no-place else to go, not in this town, anyways."

    Chastity's step slowed.
If she weren't so desperate…

    Humiliation pumping her color a bright red, Chastity changed direction abruptly and walked into an isolated corner of the store. Shielding herself from view, she reached down into the neckline of her dress to remove the small cloth bag where her money was secreted. Somehow she hadn't thought to remove it before she came into the store. The reason was simple, she supposed. She wasn't thinking clearly. In fact, she hadn't been thinking clearly since the first moment she had seen the Reverend Reed Farrell limp into that rail car and decided to approach him!

    Her hand deep in the bodice of her dress, Chastity struggled with the fastener there. But to have that odious storekeeper look at her the way he did! To have her word doubted and to be insulted by his suggestive innuendos, as if she were a common… a common…

    "What are you doin' there, darlin'?"

    Taking a gasping step backward when the storekeeper appeared suddenly beside her, Chastity felt the wall at her back. A chill of revulsion crawled down her spine as he moved closer.

    "You need any help with what you're doin'?

    Hell, I'm real good at helpin' out with things like that."

    Chastity strove to maintain her calm. "I realize that my appearance may be deceiving, sir, so I will repeat what I said before. I have money to buy the articles of clothing that I need. If you'll allow me a few minutes' privacy, I'll produce it for you."